Crimson Light
by SamanthaCBlack18
Summary: A random evening in Mickey's and Ian's messed up lives. They meet and share an (almost) romantic moment. Prompted by a close friend of mine. Prompts: shadows, sunset and wound. Rated to be safe.


**Author's Note**: Hello everybody! This is my first ever fanfiction written in English and my first for the Shameless fandom. As most of us I couldn't help but fall in love with Mickey and Ian and considering that it's been a long time since I last wrote something at all I thought that they were the perfect couple to get me back on the writing scene. As I let you understand I'm not English mother tongue. I hope this isn't too bad and please, please, tell me if I got anything wrong, I'll be more than happy to correct it.

This had been prompted by Ilacchan, my closest online friend. I really hope she likes it.

**Enjoy!**

**Desclaimers: I don't own anything. Shameles US belongs to its rightful ownwers as do the characters. I just borrw them and I'll put them back at the end of this story. **

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Mickey Milkovich wasn't an easy person to deal with. Therefore, it wasn't anything new to him that his sister literally kicked his ass out of their house. He was walking down the street with no destination in mind, he didn't have anywhere to be. He crossed the street under the L, without even looking if there were any cars coming, not like there were many in their neighbourhood anyway.

He kept on walking wandering without paying attention to his surroundings; he was the thug of the Southside no matter where he went. The day was cloudy, although quite windy. It wasn't a bad day.

Without realizing it, he arrived at the old abandoned condo where he always went to target practice or stay alone for a while.

In no hurry, he climbed the unstable stairs to the top floor. There the wind was blowing cold on his skin passing through the broken window and moving dust all over the place. A chilly shiver ran up his back, it had been a bad idea to climb up here, it was colder that in the streets. Now he was there and going back down for no reason didn't set well with him, he looked around and decided to hide behind the wall on the other side of the room, if he remembered correctly, there weren't any windows there and probably it was a bit warmer.

When he walked around the corner as if he owned the place – and he kind of did since no one was out there to reclaim it – he startled.

"What the fuck?!" He pulled out his pocketknife directing it towards the intruder: a boy was sitting against the wall with his knees drawn to his chest, who looked up spooked by the sudden voice, his gaze instantly falling on the knife pointed his way.

"Sorry." He mumbled, looking back down and hiding his greenish eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here Gallagher?" Mickey demanded him. That was his place, not theirs.

"Nothing, I just needed to get out of my house for a while."

"What happened this time?" Mickey questioned him. The Gallaghers compared to his family were like some perfect family, even if Ian always told him they weren't.

"I told you, it's nothing."

"If you say so, I'm not the one with a long face here." Mickey could pride himself with knowing Ian pretty well, even if he would deny it if someone ever asked.

Ian smiled. It was a little satisfied smile, as if having Mickey care enough about him to ask what happened was enough to let him know that they had something important between them.

"It's just Fiona being her typical obsessive self. She is convinced that I will go to college. She thinks that my desire to go to West Point is just a child fantasy and I'll go to college one day like Lip. I'm not the kind of person that goes to college."

"So, what has her convinced that you'll be going there?" He leaned against the wall. Playing with the knife that he had to put away yet.

"I don't know. I never told her explicitly that I want to go to West Point, but she knows that I am practically obsessed with military stuff, I go to ROTC for fuck sake!"

"So just tell her."

"It's not that simple, Mickey."

"How hard can it be?" He sat down next to him, never putting that knife away, like it was a life line, that protected him from Ian's gaze: he never looked him in the eyes when he had that thing in his hands.

Ian leaned on him trying to gain some comfort by his closeness; he reached with his hand over Mickey's trying to grasp one of his.

Mickey's hand slipped in that moment, the knife slicing Ian's finger, right on his knuckle. They both freezed. The air around them stopped with their held breaths. A little drop of blood slowly emerged from the little wound, red and coppery. As soon as the blood started dripping fast on the floor, both boys reacted.

"Oh shit! What the hell Ian! I could have cut off your fucking finger!" Mickey dropped the knife, scrambling to find a piece of cloth in his pockets.

"Damn this hurts!" Ian brought the finger at his mouth, sucking the blood, with its salty and irony taste. Finally, Mickey decided to rip off a piece of his shirt, wrapping it around Ian's finger, tight in order to stop the bleeding.

"Well, I have my first war wound."

"Shut up fucker." Mickey laughed shoving his shoulder and making him fall to the side, while he chuckled too.

"Come on get up, idiot." Mickey muttered while he got up, putting his weight against the wall and reaching out to help Ian up.

They both walked around the corner back to the open space, with the big broken windows. Red light was colouring the dusty floor, giving the sad place a romantic aura. The wind wasn't blowing anymore, the air was still and a bit warm. Ian couldn't help himself: he grasped Mickey's hand that was fumbling in one of his pockets looking for cigarettes and lighter.

"What now?" He scoffed gripping with tight lips the cigarette he found.

"Just look." Ian whispered in his ear.

"There's nothing here."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Come with me." He dragged his lover to the closest window on the ovest wall, bringing both of them in the middle of it.

"Would you please tell me what the fuck got into you right now?"

"Nothing just check this room out." And he made him turn around to look at the place with him.

Crimson light framed in a series of rectangles flooded the room. Nothing was heard for a moment, the time seemed to have stopped between them. Their shadows laid near each other, their hands still intermingled.

Mickey felt compelled to hug Ian, and somehow he didn't even try to stop that irrational feeling. He reached with his arm behind Ian's back bringing him closer to his side while he watched as the two shadows mingled in a single bigger one. Ian was observing him from the corner of his eye, smiling happily for that little gesture of affection that Mickey showed him. He turned his head slightly to the side to place a little kiss on his temple. Mickey rolled his eyes but he still turned stretching his arms around Ian's hips and tilting his head upward to demand silently a kiss.

Ian happily complied kissing his lips sweetly and slowly for a little while, not long enough in Mickey's opinion: too soon Ian separated their lips, leaving an unsatisfied Mickey lidded eyed.

"You think of that as a kiss? What the hell was that? A fucking feather?" He asked incredulous.

Ian chuckled, leaning again towards him to begin a more passionate kiss: their tongues intermingled, caressing each other while they grazed their teeth. Lust flared in their bodies, bringing them closer together, their bodies pressing against each other.

"Fuck me. Now." Mickey moaned grinding his hips against Ian's who couldn't resist him anymore and slid his hands under the other boy's shirt lifting it over his shoulder and then throwing it to the side. He lowered his head and nibbled Mickey's throat eliciting another moan from Mickey. Ian could feel the skin vibrate because of the sound and that made him even more aroused. One of his hand slowly wandered over his uncovered torso making his way lower towards his belt to unbuckle it. Ian played with the elastic band of his boxer finally sliding in them and gripping Mickey's shaft. He massaged him slowly, feeling him harden under his touch. Ian felt Mickey's ragged breathing on his neck. They were plastered against each other, heavy breath and kneading against each other.

"Take your shirt off." Mickey ordered with a low panting voice, while trying to grab its hem and lift it over Ian's head. Ian distanced himself just enough to comply throwing it to the side as he assaulted his lips again almost crushing them. Mickey pushed him towards one of the walls trying to straddle him as soon as they hit it. Ian's hands were back in his pants while he quickly unbuckled the other boy's ones. They were flushed and panting, their legs quivered until they let themselves slide down the wall until Ian's back hit the floor.

Mickey sat on his lap and rested his hands on Ian's chest. He stared at him with a look of wonderment in his eyes. The scarlet light of the sunset lit Ian's hair making them more ginger than ever, reflecting the light wonderfully. He looked so gorgeous that he had to stop and contemplate him for a moment to try to imprint his appearance in his memory.

"What are you looking at?" Inquired the man lying under him.

"Nothing in particular." He downplayed what he was feeling. There was no way in hell that he would let Ian see how much he was affecting him.

Ian rolled them over with a thrust of his back pinning Mickey to the ground with his hands over his head. He looked at him mesmerized for a second: the sun was playing a game of shadows and lights on his face, making him even more handsome than usual, he would have dared to say beautiful if he didn't fear to lose his tongue.

He started grinding against his hips, until Mickey opened his legs, silently asking for more.

He descended on his torso scattering licks and kisses, mercilessly teasing him.

"Just fuck me, would ya?" He groaned rising his waist to find some reliving friction. Ian grunted and quickly prepared him inserting a lubed finger and adding soon another one. He scissored and twisted them, eliciting moans from Mickey. Then he put on a condom lubing it and he grasped his own cock positioning it right on Mickey's entrance. With a quick thrust, he impaled himself to the hilt. He had to stop, gasping for air, his dick buried in the tight and hot cavity.

"You are so tight..." He breathed out.

Mickey squirmed underneath him and moved his hips upward to find friction and relief. Then Ian set a slow rocking pace, but soon he picked it up bringing them closer to their orgasms.

Mickey's breath was coming in irregular gasps that showed how much he was losing control. "Touch yourself..." Ian demanded and he complied without hesitation.

Before long both boys came hard, muffling a groan in each other shoulders. Ian collapsed on top of Mickey and rested there for a while too exhausted to move. When he rolled to the side, he noticed how the sunlight was slowly dying down behind the other buildings of the Southside and was leaving them in a soft darkish hue.

"You know, we should stop doing this kind of encounters in uncomfortable places like this. My ass is getting raw." Mickey complained.

"Don't make shit up. You are just too old to fuck on a bard surface. You need a soft mattress under your royal ass."

"Fuck off." Mickey shoved Ian to the side while he got up to start to get dressed.

"I love you too." Ian shot back with an impish smile dancing on his lips. It felt good to know that someone cared about what he wanted and when he couldn't help achieve it be just knew how to distract him from his problems. No matter what Mickey tried to make him believe, he cared.


End file.
